


let lips do what hands do

by magnetichearts



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: AU, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I love it so much though, Mistletoe, childhood best friends, christmas fics are my lifeblood so i had to write one for my faves, featuring: That Red Dress, this is just basically 4k words of jake and amy being stupidly sappy and gone over ecah other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 00:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17193215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetichearts/pseuds/magnetichearts
Summary: the four times jake, amy, and mistletoe converge(or; karen peralta is a hidden genius and we all knew exactly what she was planning)





	let lips do what hands do

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this entire fic in one sitting because it was christmas and i was really feelings the christmas spirit. as always, i had to write about my favorite heart eyes couple because they're so soft with each other and i cannot breathe when they are near each other. much much much thanks to @absopositivelutely for the beta work! i couldn't have done this without your help! title is also taken from romeo and juliet bc i'm a sucker for shakespeare and this is actually a really sad play

_**i.** _

As much as Amy hates to admit it (at all of five years old) there’s a sort of beauty in the messy, haphazard way her mother’s friend has decorated her house. Despite her young age, Amy knows what she likes, and that is family, binders, and pierogies, in that order. She doesn’t understand how Karen could make the house look beautiful if the tinsel is strewn about, ornaments just hanging on the very last edges of the tree, but there is a sort of beauty in it. 

 

There is  _ not,  _ however, a sort of beauty in Jake’s sticky fingers that grasp her own as he drags her through the crowd of people. Amy resists the urge to pull out a tissue and wipe her fingers and his own, but his hands, while sticky, are warm, and Amy’s always cold. Jake tugs her underneath the tablecloth, and she gasps. 

 

“Jake! We can’t be here. Your mother said that we had to stay in sight of the adults at all times.” 

 

“Come on, Amy.” Jake rolls his eyes and gives her a toothy grin, white teeth shining at her. ‘It’s  _ Christmas _ . Learn to lighten up a little. Plus, don’t you want some peace and quiet from all the noise out there? I’m sure you’re more than used to it from your own house.” And he’s right. Amy’s only recently found how much she craves the silence, the quiet, the feeling of being alone, but not lonely. 

 

She sighs and shakes her head, shiny ponytails swinging. She doesn’t notice how Jake’s eyes almost glaze over as he looks at their movement, but when she gives him a small smile, his eyes shoot to hers, locking onto them. “Ok, but just this  _ one time, _ ok? You know how much I hate not listening to adults.”

 

Jake’s wide grin breaks out, and something in Amy’s chest bursts with happiness. She might argue with him like there’s no tomorrow, but Jake is her best friend (besides Kylie) and nothing is going to change that. 

 

“Yes!” He punches the air in excitement. “Look at this, Amy.” From the pocket of his jean shorts (honestly this is a  _ party _ , why didn’t he dress nicer? Amy likes her red dress, thank you very much) he fishes out a piece of paper. “I heard that someone stole my mom’s nicer punch bowl, so we’re gonna go see if we can be detectives and find it.” 

 

Amy gasps in excitement. “Jake! That’s a great idea. It’ll be good practice for when I become a cop.” 

 

Jake grins at her. “Come on then!” he urges, scrambling out from underneath the tablecloth. “Let’s go.” 

 

After a series of serious interrogations of Jake’s mother, and some party guests, Jake and Amy track down the punch bowl to the back of the pantry closet, hidden behind half-eaten Oreo packages and bags of chips so stale they may as well be used as bricks. 

 

“We found it Jake!” Amy throws her arms around him in excitement and squeezes him tightly, before letting go and spinning in a circle. “We are the smartest detectives ever,” she shouts at the ceiling. 

 

Jake laughs and spins around with her. “I know. Maybe you should ask your dad to give us some of his cases.” 

 

Amy gapes at him. “I can’t do that Jake. Those cases are for adults, and my dad told me not to touch them, so I can’t touch them. But maybe we can show him what we did and he’ll let us take a look at the ones for kids.” 

 

Jake nods eagerly and grabs Amy’s hand once more, this time not at all sticky because she made him wash and dry his hands before they went on their adventure. (she enjoys the feeling even more) They zip through the small house, packed to the brim with people, and Amy’s so focused on the way Jake’s curly hair looks in the Christmas lights, and Jake smiling back at Amy’s, that they don’t even notice when they crash into the back of a woman, right where the kitchen opens into the living room. 

 

“Oops!” Amy squeaks, eyes wide as the woman turns around and smiles at her. She clutches Jake’s hand even tighter. “We’re sorry! We didn’t mean to bump into you!” Amy holds her breath, heart pounding with nervousness. She  _ hates _ making adults mad. 

 

The woman just chuckles and lowers herself down to Amy’s height. “That’s ok,” she says, eyes flickering just above them. “But, you’ve gotten yourself into quite a pickle here.” 

 

Amy scrunches her eyebrows together. She likes to think she and Jake are pretty smart, if the punch bowl locationing had anything to say about it, but she has no idea what this lady is talking about. 

 

She must notice the confused look on Amy’s face, though, because she whispers to the girl, “look up.” 

 

Amy does exactly that, and her mouth drops open at the sight of something small, leafy, and green tied to the top of the threshold. Jake looks at her at the exact same time as him, and drops her hand like he’s been burned. “Ewwwww!” he shrieks. “I can’t kiss Amy! She’s my friend! That’s too weird.” 

 

The woman just chuckles. “Ah, but unless you do, you can’t leave from the doorway without breaking a little bit of the Christmas spirit.” 

 

At this, Amy’s blood runs cold, and she turns to face her best friend. “Jake, we  _ can’t _ break the Christmas spirit! Otherwise Santa won’t visit us tonight and give us presents! I like Santa!” 

 

“But Amyyyyyyyyy,” Jake whines, but he stops himself at the deathly serious look on Amy’s face. Only Amy Santiago could be that serious at five years old. “Okay,” he groans, pushing the toe of his sock against the wooden floor. 

 

So quickly she almost misses it, he leans forward and presses sticky lips to her cheek, and then takes off in the opposite direction. Amy stands there, shellshocked, before shaking her head, going to ask her mother for a tissue. She shuffles along the crowd and presses a small hand to the spot, before wiping it with her sleeve. (god, why were his lips sticky as  _ well _ , didn’t the boy have manners?) 

  
_**ii.** _

 

God, Amy  _ hates _ Christmas parties. 

 

Ok, maybe not Christmas parties specifically. Just parties in general. Ever since she turned eleven, she’s liked being alone more and more, just by herself, in her room reading with her binders and pens and laminator. But, she’s always liked spending time with Jake, at the very least.

 

Amy scans the crowd for her best friend, lips pursing. Ever since it’s become “weird” for girls and boys to be friends (a concept Amy finds baffling) she’s seen Jake less and less, and she hates it. No matter what, he’s still her friend, and he makes her laugh more than anyone else in the world. She misses him. She finally spots him, brown hair cropped shorter than she’s seen it, as he heads up the stairs. 

 

“Jake, wait!’ Amy calls after him, but he doesn’t hear her. Whether that’s the party or because he’s ignoring her, Amy doesn’t care, dashing up the stairs and taking them two at a time. She catches Jake’s door just before it’s about to slam shut and pushes it open. 

 

Jake’s got his back to her, so he doesn’t even know she’s in the room yet. But, his shoulders are shaking and the low light doesn’t hide much in terms of crying. Amy quietly shuts the door behind her and goes to sit next to her best friend. 

 

Without saying a word, Jake buries his face into her shoulder, and for the first time in her life, Amy could care less about her clothes. She rubs her hand up and down his arm, trying to soothe him so the wracking sobs that tear at her own heart will stop. 

 

Eventually Jake calms down, and he lifts his head from her shoulder, wiping at his eyes furiously. “I hate him so much,” Jake spits, eyes red rimmed and puffy. “I hate that he makes me so sad even though he’s the one who’s gone.” 

 

Amy strokes his hair and pulls him into a hug, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “You’re worth a thousand of him, Jake Peralta.” She feels more than hears her best friend shudder, struggling to keep back a wave of fresh tears, and in that moment, she swears that she’s never hated anyone on this planet more than Roger Peralta.

 

“You mean that?” Jake whispers, pulling away from the hug. “You really mean that?” 

 

Amy’s heart shatters in her little eleven year old chest, and she wishes that she could keep all the bad things from ever happening to Jake, because he’s the last person in the world who deserves any kind of sadness. “I promise, Jake. Come on. All the food at the party is gonna get eaten if you don’t head down there soon, and let’s make sure your dad knows that you’re having the best time in the world without him.” 

 

Jake manages a weak smile at that, and laces his fingers through hers. “I’m sorry about ignoring you, Ames,” he whispers, looking down at the ground. “I was dealing with a lot of stuff and then I ignored you because of stupid things my friends were saying and I was just really dumb, ok?” Amy smiles at her friend, because she can’t even stay mad at Jake for too long, and nods. 

 

He pulls her down the staircase once more and winds through the crowds, getting trapped against the tide of bodies moving from the kitchen now that mostly everyone has finished their dinner. Jake offers Amy a smile and squeezes her hand once more as they move forward, but they’re stopped suddenly but the sound of something smashing right in front of them. 

 

Amy looks down to see shards of porcelain, from an old mug, in front of her, and Karen appears quickly. “It’s ok, guys,” she says, picking the large pieces up. “It’s safe to come out now.” She stands, but then an almost gleeful smiles spreads across her face as she looks above the two kids. Amy’s stomach drops into her shoes, and a feeling of deja vu spreads across her body as she follows Karen’s gaze. 

 

There, a small, beautiful bundle of mistletoe is perched, in the exact same place it has been every year at the Peralta’s Christmas parties. Jake shoots Amy a horrified look, and doesn’t make to move at all, frozen in place. Amy only feels the dread grow throughout her body. Jake doesn’t like her in  _ that way _ , she’s sure of it, and after starting middle school, kisses have become a lot more important to her than they were at age five. 

 

But, Amy knows how much Karen loves the spirit of Christmas, and despite being eleven, and having grown out of that a long time ago (although not as long ago as she likes to pretend) she resigns herself to her fate and leans forward. 

 

She presses her lips to Jake’s cheek, and despite knowing she should pull away quickly, lingers for a second, the smell of soap and cinnamon washing over her. She pulls away hastily, just managing to catch Karen’s grin before Jake’s face explodes crimson and takes up all of her attention. “Th-thanks,” he stammers, looking anywhere but her. Amy’s heart calms down from its sprint just as Jake looks at her, with soft eyes, and she thinks that she would do anything to keep being his friend if he never stops looking at her like that. “Seriously Ames, thanks.” He smiles, and her heart seizes in her chest, but she gives him one back. 

 

“Anytime, Jake. Anytime.” 

 

**_iii._ **

 

Amy’s hands are sweaty. They’ve never been sweaty before, but they are, all of a sudden, and she can’t figure out why. 

 

“Ames,” she hears. She spins around, the skirt of her dress whipping around her legs, to see Jake sliding down the banister, landing directly in front of her. 

 

He grins at her, hands stuffed in his pockets, and she smiles at the button down t-shirt that his mother has put him into for this party. “Still a mama’s boy, aren’t you,” she quips, smoothing his collar and the shoulders of his shirt out. “Remind me again, how old are you?” she laughs, hugging her friend. 

 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Jake mumbles, pushing a hand through his hair. “I’m sixteen and I still do whatever my mother asks of me, I get it.” Amy smiles at him, joy flooding her system. 

 

“I like it,” she says, laughing at the sudden blush that explodes across his face. “You’re a nice guy.” 

 

Jake smirks and cross his arms, leaning against the banister. “So, what’s up with you? You’re in your smart classes, I feel like I never see you except for at lunch.” That’s true. Now that they’re graduating (god, the thought of it makes her excited and terrified at the same time) in one year, Amy’s been pushing herself even more than ever, taking more challenging classes, joining the track team, and getting more involved with debate. This, sadly, hasn’t left any time for her friends, including Jake. She misses all of them, Rosa, Charles, and Gina, but she misses Jake the most. 

 

Amy sighs, wrapping a hand around the curve of the banister. “You know me, Jake. Never stop working.” 

 

“Well,” he points out, rolling up the sleeves of his button down to just below his elbows, “you stopped working long enough to come hang out with me.” 

 

Amy, transfixed at the way Jake’s forearms move with every gesture he makes, doesn’t even notice that he’s finished talking and that she’s staring for a couple minutes. She shakes herself out of her reverie and pulls at the collar of her dress, chuckling. “Yeah, but that’s only because I knew you would die if you went any longer without seeing my beautiful face.” 

 

Jake mocks her, sticking his tongue out, and Amy laughs, pure, and happy, for what feels like the first time in months. She doesn’t let anyone see, but the stress has really started to get to her, and it’s these moments and the 50 minutes at lunch each day that help her keep going. 

 

“Fine,” Jake relents. “But only because I know you’re also in love with this face as well.” He contorts his face so that it forms a double chin, and Amy bursts out laughing, smiling so hard her face starts to hurt. 

 

“Ok, Jake, if you’re done acting like you’re five, let’s go get food. You know like 85% of the reason I come to these parties is to get something to eat.” Amy grabs Jake’s wrists and drags him through the house. When they finally reach the table, they both pile their plate with food and go to find somewhere quiet to sit. 

 

Amy glances around, but everywhere has people, and she knows they can’t bring food upstairs. Then, Jake grins, and her heart leaps into her throat. It’s not  _ fair _ . Why does she have to notice how objectively attractive her best friend is now? Couldn’t this wait? She really doesn’t have time for it. 

 

“Come on,” he says, motioning for her to follow him. “I have the perfect place.” 

 

Amy looks at hims, puzzled, but follows him out of the room. Then, she sighs and smiles as she watched Jake lift up a table cloth and duck underneath it. “Jake, we can’t possibly fit underneath there. The last time was when we were five. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve grown a little since then.” 

 

Jake’s eyes rove over her body, and Amy feels a little flushed until he smiles that same toothy grin at her. “Oh, don’t be lame Amy. Join me,” he whispers, letting the curtain fall and obscur him with a dramatic hush. Amy lingers there for a moment, smile stuck to her lips, before she ducks under. 

 

She was right, they are quite cramped. But Jake was right as well. It seems like another world under here, silent and sacred. It’s only then that Amy realizes if she’s actually going to fit, she and Jake are going to have to be, well,  _ close _ . She blushes, hoping he can’t see under the dim light, and steals some of his food off of his plate. 

 

She feels like a kid again, if only for one night a year. But it’s worth it. 

 

When they’re finally too stuffed with food to even think about having a single more bite, Jake scrambles out from underneath the tablecloth. Amy shuffles out behind him, but when she glances up, she sees Jake holding a hand out to her. “Perfect gentleman,” she teases, slipping her hand into his as he helps her up.

 

“You’re never going to stop teasing me, huh?” Jake murmurs, eyes on her face. 

 

“Count on it,” Amy winks, dropping her hand from him. “You’re stuck with me.” 

 

“Thank god,” Jake mutters, behind her, and Amy’s never been more grateful for her darker skin that helps to hide blushes, because her face feels like someone set it on fire. 

 

She and Jake weave their way throughout the crowd, and they lean against the stairs, exchanging barbs. All of a sudden, Amy feels a pressure on her shoulder, and she turns around to see her older brother, Diego, smirking at her. 

 

“Well, looks like someone’s got to keep up with tradition,” he chuckles, taking a sip of his beer, eyes shining. 

 

Amy knows before she even looks up, and looks over at Jake’s face. For the first time since this happened, over a decade ago, he doesn’t look shocked or horrified or upset. He looks almost unsure. But, his eyes lock with Amy’s, and she gives him a smile. 

 

(she’s never been more unsure of anything in her life, but this is Jake, and she’ll love him no matter what. but not in  _ that way _ . she thinks.)

 

Jake steps even closer to her, and Amy wants to keep her eyes focused on him, on those brown, brown, brown eyes that are always so expressive, but she can’t figure out what they’re saying right now, and when he lifts a hand to brush her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, her eyes drift shut, and she can’t breathe. 

 

Every single molecule of oxygen in the air seems to have decided it would be better placed elsewhere, and Amy can’t focus on anything besides the sound of Jake’s breathing, the rough but warm feeling of his hands on her cheek, and the silence that seems to have appeared all of a sudden. 

 

Then, she feels the feather light press of lips against her cheek, slightly chapped but still impossibly soft, and her heart threatens to beat out of her chest. Jake lingers there, hand curled around her hip, and it’s all she can do to keep her eyes closed and not drag his mouth to hers. His breath washes over her, soft, and Amy squeezes her eyes even further shut, even as he pulls away. Her eyes flutter open to find Jake staring at her, shell shocked, but in the good way. Amy lets her eyes flicker down to his lips, wonders what it would be like if she kissed him right here and right now, but she swallows the temptation and locks it away. 

 

“Merry Christmas, Ames,” he whispers, hand slipping off her shoulder as he walks away. Amy watches him leave, swallows roughly, and tucks her hair behind both her ears. 

 

**_iv._ **

 

Amy’s never been more nervous in her life. She’s sure of it. Not during finals week, not during graduation (high school or college) not even on her first day in the academy. Never. 

 

Her hands shake as they grab her glass of wine, and she can’t even breathe. Could she ever, though, around Jake? Being back home, after spending so much time in her miniscule apartment with Kylie in the city, barely seeing Jake even though she knew he was in the academy as well, all of this is leading up to this moment. She’s been swallowing these feelings for her best friend for the better part of a decade, and if she doesn’t say something now, she might not ever. She’s 24, and she’s got everything to lose. But she’s also got everything to gain. 

 

Amy breathes a sigh of relief as she sees Jake winding through the crowd, and her heart, her traitorous heart, both slows down and speeds up as she smiles and makes his way towards her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her head. “Thank god you’re here,” he mutters, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. “I was going crazy.” 

 

Amy laughs and swipes a beer off the refreshment table, handing it to him. “We all know you’re hopeless without me, pineapples.” 

 

Jake lifts his head and scowls at her, but she can see a little mirth lurking in his eyes, glee at being together after so much time apart. “You’re right, as always,” he sighs, wrapping his arm around hers. “So, how’s the academy?”

 

Amy gives him a disbelieving look. “You would know, wouldn’t you?” she laughs. “You’ve been obsessed with being a cop since you watched  _ Die Hard _ , so what, the better part of twenty years?” 

 

“Hey, John McClane is the badass we all wish we could be and you know it,” Jake points out, handing her a plate. They load their plates with food and perch on the corner of the couch, bumping shoulders, and despite the cooking being as good as ever, and the warm feeling of Jake’s body next to her spreading throughout her chest, Amy’s stomach still wants to do somersaults and leap out of her body.

 

They finally finish eating and Amy grabs another beer for Jake and one for her, and they sneak up to Jake’s room, taking sips of alcohol and sharing stories. Both Rosa and Charles have  _ very _ different methods in approaching police work, and Amy finds herself unable to stop smiling as she hears about her best friend and how many times he’s been punished with push ups at the academy. (although, she carefully notes, it shows, and for that she’s not exactly complaining. his arms are, uh, nice to look at)

 

Jake smiles at her, and Amy swallows roughly. Now or never. 

 

“Jake-” she begins, but he cuts her off at the sound of Mariah Carey’s  _ All I Want For Christmas Is You _ playing downstairs, eyes widening. 

 

“Ames! Come on! This is our favorite song for Christmas!” He pulls her up and practically drags her to the door. She stumbles a little on her heels, slowing him down and stopping them right underneath the door to his room. 

 

“May I remind you that this is your favorite Christmas song, not mine. You know mine-” Amy cuts off with a gasp, eyes fixed just above Jake’s head at the small bundle of green. No. Not now. Amy can’t handle another cheek kiss that leaves her wanting for another 8  _ years _ . She just can’t. 

 

Before she has a chance to say anything, though, Jake looks up, at the mistletoe, and then back down at her. She sees the determined set of his jaw, and barely has time to admire how much sharper it’s gotten since 16 before he crowds her against the door and he’s kissing her. 

 

Amy feels more than hears the slight gasp she lets out, but it’s  _ Jake _ , and he’s kissing her, and it’s everything she’s ever wanted since she was 16 years old, and he’s right there. He tastes like peppermint and beer, and the feel of his lips against hers, softer than she thought possible, sends sparks down her spine, settling low and contented in her stomach. This, this is why she  _ loves _ mistletoe. 

 

Jake wraps an arm around her waist and drags her closer, reaches a hand up to brush the hair behind her ear, and Amy can barely breathe. Jake pulls his lips away from hers, and she gasps as he presses a singular, soft kiss to her cheek before drawing away, forehead still pressed against hers. 

 

“I think I’ve wanted to do that since the first time we got caught under it,” he whispers, fingers lightly ghosting over the curve of her cheek. “You looked so pretty, you always do, and I stopped being cool and able to handle myself around you.” 

 

“I think I’ve been in love with you for almost ten years,” Amy whispers back, eyes still closed, tracing the line of Jake’s jaw like she’d dreamt about doing for so many years. His arms, wrapped around her waist, pull her even closer, so that there’s not even room for one atom of space between them, and she sighs, looping her arms around his neck. She’d never noticed that he’d gotten taller than her until now. 

 

Jake laughs and nuzzles his nose against hers, and Amy doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the feeling of his body pressed against hers, warm and soft and  _ him _ . “I’ve got you beat, Ames. But you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words from you.” 

 

Amy smiles and presses her lips to this, once, quickly, before pulling away. “Come on. Let’s see how long before your mother notices.” 

 

Jake snorts. “She’s only been waiting for this for over fifteen years. Why do you think the mistletoe is in literally every corner of the house? And I can’t even be mad at her for that,” he continues, pressing kisses all over her face. 

 

“I’m still hungry though. Let’s get more food,” 

 

“Please,” he laughs, tangling his fingers and pulling her, again to the party. 

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos and comments, and you can find me on tumblr @lydiaxmxrtin!


End file.
